by G M Eppers
“Coming,” I said. I looked up through the roof one more time at the night sky, then Billings and I left the remains of the circular and walked to the waiting helicopter. As I climbed in, I asked the pilot, “You okay flying at night?” because previously we’d been told it was too risky to fly a helicopter in the dark.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “Instrument flyer. It’s just like Angry Birds, right?” He winked as I edged past him and found a seat. I strapped in extra tightly just in case.
It was a bit more than three hours later when we landed on the roof of the Mayo Clinic. Ban was there to greet us in the soft glow of the roof’s floodlights. She had a couple techs with her and a wheeled gurney. They transferred Knobby, who was sound asleep, to the gurney with a count of three and wheeled him toward the elevator. The rest of us all climbed out and watched as the helicopter took off again and Ban led us back down to the lab. Sir Haughty, Badger, and Nitro hugged us, Avis Nicely did rather more to greet Billings’ return while Agnes stood by politely, and Miss Chiff nodded curtly. Only a few lab techs remained, most having gone home to their families hours ago, leaving Darwin, Ban’s fiancé.
Nitro walked right up to Billings, waiting until he’d finished greeting Avis. “Hey, the analysis of those crackers showed Uber all right. Feta.”
“We know. We saw the facility. But good work, Nitro. You have records?”
“Yes. I used the SQUISH-E,” he added proudly.
Darwin was standing nearby. “You could have used the gas chromatograph.”
“I couldn’t find the gas chromatograph.”
“It’s right there!” Darwin pointed to a table with a large, boxy machine on it which had an engraved sign on the edge that said GAS CHROMATOGRAPH. In the sparse lab, that was the equivalent of a neon sign with oscillating search lights. “And you used the SQUISH-E all wrong. It’s not meant to do that.”
“Relax,” said Nitro casually. “If we only used things the way they were meant to be used we wouldn’t have fire. I blew up a cafeteria when I was 14. I think I know what I’m doing. Besides, I put all the settings back where they were. Stop worrying so much. It’s bad for your BP.” Nitro only worried about really important things, like bleeding moles, sunspots, and whether or not a tomato is a vegetable. After he turned away, he winked at me. “Wow!” he mouthed. “Fun!”
“Where’s Ross?” asked Gary, his hands still cuffed behind his back. Agent Eyedeneaux had a firm grip on Gary’s left arm.
Ban smiled at first, then noticed the handcuffs. “I see we have an issue here.”
“Yeah,” Gary admitted. His jaw had been firmly wrapped with a stretchy Ace bandage and he’d been given some painkillers before leaving the Angle. He still sounded like he was trying to talk gangster. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to Ross. I suppose he’ll become a ward of the state. In any case, I have to say goodbye. I –“ his voice broke. “Damn it. This is all screwed up. I was trying to help him. I’ve ruined everything.”
“Not necessarily, Gary,” said Ban. To one of her techs, she said, “Go down to the habitats and get Ross and Lou. Tell Ross his brother is here.” The tech nodded and rushed off. She turned back to Gary. “I think I have a solution. I’d like to take care of Ross.”
“Why? I don’t understand. Why would you do that?” Gary had a few tears running down his cheeks. He was unable to wipe them away so they just slowly slid down and pooled at the edge of the Ace bandage.
Ban pulled over a wheeled chair and spun it toward Gary, then grabbed another for herself. They sat facing each other, Eyedeneaux’s hand on Gary’s shoulder gripping his jacket. “Listen,” said Ban. “Ross is really good with animals, did you know that?”
Gary shrugged. “I guess so. A lot of people like animals.”
“No, I mean he’s REALLY good with animals. He helped me put Clara back in her habitat and it was like he was Francis of Assisi or something. Even the frogs ate flies right out of his hand. I want Ross to help me with the animals, Gary. He can stay here with us at the Mayo Clinic.”
Gary sat up straight. “Ross has special needs. He doesn’t do well without me.”
“We can see to everything he needs, Gary, I promise. He can help us in other ways, too. In a few years or so, we should be ready to start human trials on the Colonic Pacemaker.”
He stood up, scraping his chair backwards. “Hold on there. You’re not using my brother for a guinea pig.”
“Hear me out, Gary,” said Ban, holding out a hand toward him, though she never touched him. Her hand fell back to her lap. “That’s not for at least three years, maybe more. In the meantime, he can help us build a human response database so we can be ready for computer modeling as soon as possible. This will allow us to take the cost of his care from our research funds.” As she spoke, Gary became less defensive and sat down again. “I’ve been thinking about this since I first met Ross on the bus. When I saw him with Clara, I could see how special he is.” She shifted in the chair a bit, ramping up for another proposal. “I don’t know how long you’ll be away. You might be able to come back for him inside of three years, or maybe it’ll be longer. But I’ll make a deal with you. I will not implant Ross with a CP without your permission, no matter how long it takes. His participation will be solely data gathering and animal husbandry. I’ll get him through withdrawal safely and I won’t feed him Uber or do anything that would put him in danger. He’ll be in good hands and you won’t have to worry about him. I can bring him to visit you and you’ll be able to write to him and I’ll help him write back. When you get out, you can pull him from the project if you want or we can proceed to the next phase only on your say so. I’ve had our legal department draw up a contract. All you have to do is sign it.”
Just then, the rear doorway burst open and Ross came running out, heading straight for Gary. “Gary! Gary! I helped Ban with the frogs and the raccoons and the goats and the rabbits and a bunch of animals. This was fun. Can we do it again?”
Ross hugged Gary and didn’t seem to notice that his brother’s hands were confined or that his head was bandaged.
“Ross, listen to me carefully, okay?” said Gary. He made sure he had good eye contact with Ross before continuing. “Ross, I have to go away for a while. For kind of a long time, actually. We’ll be able to visit and all, but I can’t take care of you right now. Would you like to stay with Ban and help her with the animals?”
“All the time?” Ross seemed very excited about the prospect, then began to pout. “But you won’t be here?”
“That’s right, Ross. Ban would take care of you. You listen to whatever Ban says, okay?”
“Sure, Gary. She’s nice.” Ross smiled again, first at Gary, then his head lazily turned to smile at Ban, then back to Gary. “When will you come back?”
“I don’t know exactly. It’s going to feel like a very long time, I think. I’ll miss you.” His eyes were misting up again and doggone it so were mine.
“Agent, don’t you think you could take those off for a few minutes?” I suggested.
Eyedeneaux, whose eyes were not misting at all, shot suspicious looks around the lab. “Gary?” he asked, one hand on the butt of his pistol.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good. I’ll sign the contract, hug Ross, and you can take me away, you bloodsucker.” He held still while Eyedeneaux unlocked the cuffs, then finally brought his wrists around front and rubbed each one in turn. “Come here, you little idiot.” Gary pulled his brother into his arms and hugged him tightly. Ross’ eyes squeezed shut and he didn’t let go until Gary pulled back. Gary held Ross at arm’s length. “You remember what I said. Ban’s in charge now. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“It won’t be a bazillion years, will it Gary?”
“No, not a bazillion. Honest.” I could tell from Gary’s tone that to him it was going to feel like a bazillion years.
Ban rose and went to a nearby table, pulling a short stack of papers out of a drawer and slapping them on top of the table.
She pulled a pen out of her lab coat pocket and clicked it open. “You probably want to read it, but it says exactly what I explained.”
Gary glanced through the pages one by one, skimming quickly, pausing in a couple of places to read more thoroughly, then reached the last page and held the rest curled out of the way while he took the pen and signed his name. “Thank you for doing this, Ms. Harris.”
“My pleasure,” she replied.
Quickly, Gary grabbed Ban into his arms as well and hugged her nearly as tightly as he had hugged Ross. He probably would have hugged everyone in the room to postpone being handcuffed again, but he refrained. Forcing a stoic face, he turned his back to Agent Eyedeneaux and presented his wrists. “Okay, I’m ready.”
With a final goodbye, Gary and Eyedeneaux left the lab. Ross watched the door close, his face expressionless. His arm twitched. “Lou,” said Ban to the tech who had brought Ross upstairs from the habitats, “take Ross to the bunkroom. Let him pick whatever bed he wants. For tonight, he can sleep in his underwear. I’ll see about getting him his things tomorrow. And tell him I’ll be staying with him. I’ll sleep here as long as he needs me to.”
“Hey,” joked Darwin in objection, standing nearby.
She looked up at her fiancé, who was smiling at her, and smiled back. “Sorry, Darwin. You’re welcome to stay, too, of course, but we can’t . . .you know.” Lou guided Ross out of the room, speaking to him softly. I saw Ross give himself a soft rap to the side of his head as the door closed.
“I’ll pass, tonight,” Darwin told Ban. “But we are going to have to work something out.” He leaned in and kissed her, not angry at all.
It had come time for the CURDS team to take our leave as well. It was late, but the CURDS1 was waiting for us. Ban told us we were welcome to stay the night. Billings politely declined and called the local cab company, counting people on his fingers. He ordered four cabs just in case, and to ensure that no one’s ride would be too cramped. “Dad, can we drop you somewhere?” He asked Butte.
Butte waved the suggestion away. “Naw. I’m good. I wouldn’t trust you to stop the plane.” He laughed a little, then added, “I think I’ll stay in Minnesota a while. I kind of like it here.”
“Agent Alaska?” I asked, mostly as a joke.
Butte didn’t deny it. “Hey, Alaska, Montana, it’s a natural.”
I thanked Butte for his help and we all said our goodbyes to Ban and the remaining tech team, then pushed Knobby to the elevators and headed downstairs to await our fleet of taxicabs. There were a lot of street lights here and more lights in the parking lot washing out the moon and stars. We waited in the dimly lit lobby, where it was warm, for the taxis to arrive, anxious for the greater warmth and comfort of home.
We had to wake Knobby enough to gently fold him into a seat in a taxi and Roxy wheeled the empty gurney back into the lobby. Miss Chiff slid in next to Knobby, placing her carpetbag between them as a cushion, and Badger followed. Billings rode with the Nicely twins, Sir Haughty rode with Nitro and Roxy, who had her own canvas bag filled with shredded glarf, and I shared a relatively spacious taxi with Sylvia. During the ride to the airport, all of us except for Knobby and Miss Chiff were communicating via text regarding how to best approach an intervention with our Director regarding her apparent drinking problem. We quickly developed a plan. At the airport, I had Billings check in with the rental place to fill them in with the whereabouts and plans for the short bus. I told him to give them my number in case there was any problem with the return of their vehicle. The attendant on duty called the FBI field office in Minnesota to verify the information and then we were free to leave.
We walked quickly through the airport, knowing our plane would be sitting on the tarmac at this hour and not at a gate. As the group rounded a corner past a set of restrooms, a woman in a teal quilted jacket rushed past carrying a large grocery bag in her arms. She recognized us. “Hello, everyone!” said Dinny Rosensglet, turning to face us. She walked slowly backward as she talked. “I heard you were on the way back. I want to hear all about the mission. I get to be steward today. Rutherford is co-piloting. Will you be wanting a meal?” She sounded breathless, but excited and happy.
“Yes, please,” I answered. Eating had not been high on the list of activities this time out and I was sure everyone had an appetite.
“Perfect!” Dinny replied. “I know just the thing, but I have to get it started.”
“Dinny, do you know if the crackers were loaded into the cargo bay?” I asked, wondering if the Uber Crispy Craboons were in custody. If they were there, she would know what we were talking about.
Still walking backwards, hugging the grocery bag, she replied, “Yes, Helena. 298 boxes. Is that correct? And 27 pounds of Feta.”
That would the 300 minus the box Clara and Ross had eaten, and minus the one the FBI had taken for evidence, in addition to the unused Feta confiscated from building 3. “That’s correct, Dinny. Thanks!”
“See you on the plane!” She turned around again and rushed ahead of us, the brown grocery bag crackling.
The CURDS1 sat on the tarmac among a ghostly film of floodlights. By the time we had it in sight, Dinny was already aboard as if she’d never left. Billings and Badger created a chair out of their arms and hoisted a very drowsy Knobby up the stairs and into the plane. Dinny watched as we stowed our gear and weapons in the locker room. She closed up the weapons locker and spun the dial, pulling on it gently to make sure it was secure then vanished into the depths of the plane. I always enjoyed this part of the mission. No matter how exhausted we were, it was just a good feeling having things put away and knowing we were going home.
Twenty minutes later we were in the air. The seatbelt sign turned off and I nodded at Billings. We still had something to take care of. We decided to let Knobby sleep. I think Ban gave him some pretty strong painkillers. Dislocations actually take longer to recover from than one would think. Nitro, after being filled in on what happened, said he would prefer Knobby not even stand up until at least the following day. Then he would need a few weeks of gradually increasing exercise before the joints would return to normal. Regarding my ribs, it would be at least that long before I could even start my gradually increasing exercise. I was, in essence, grounded.
“Let Knobby sleep,” Billings said to the entire cabin. “Would everyone else please come up to the conference table? I want to hear verbal reports from everyone while it’s still fresh.” Miss Chiff made no move but just sat hugging her carpetbag on her lap. “You, too, Miss Chiff, please,” he added, singling her out.
“Me?” She asked, placing the palm of one hand on her chest. “I’m sure Mr. Haughty and Mr. Collins can provide a full account from the airport and Mr. Thackery and the Nicely twins can vouch for my activities at the Mayo Clinic. You hardly need my input.”
Billings caught my eye. She wasn’t supposed to object. “Please, Miss Chiff. I’m sure you have some useful insights to share. You do want a thorough report, don’t you?”
She sighed in a very put upon way. “Oh, very well.” Looping the handles of her carpetbag over one forearm, she rose and merged with the group going up the curving staircase. Skillfully dodging legs and feet, T.B., Backwash and Harelip accompanied us up the stairs as if they, too, had business to tend to. Billings was at the top first and I brought up the rear. As we’d arranged in the taxis on the way to the airport, everyone maneuvered to casually place Miss Chiff at the inside seat next to the wall, making it very difficult for her to leave. Although, from the reports I’d heard so far, I wouldn’t put it past her to leap over the wall, grab a parachute from somewhere and jump out of the plane. She placed her carpetbag on the floor by her feet and folded her hands on the table.
I could feel the tension building. This is it, I thought. When everyone was seated, Billings began. “Miss Chiff, I really want to thank you for your participation on this mission. I want you to know we all think very highly of you.” Harelip agreed as she deftly walked the ledge
behind Miss Chiff and began sniffing the bun at the back of her head. Miss Chiff quietly twisted in her seat, grasped the tuxedo cat in her hands, and lowered her to the floor. There were many human nods of agreement as well. Billings swallowed and continued, “but we were very disappointed to see that you often required, shall we say, assistance from your silver flask.” Miss Chiff raised an annoyed eyebrow. Harelip was again on the ledge, creeping forward cautiously.
In an intervention, as I understood it, it is important for everyone to speak for themselves so the subject can’t claim anyone is speaking for everyone. “I’m concerned that you might be jeopardizing your health,” I added. My feet were suddenly and thoroughly immobilized as T.B. wrapped himself around my ankles.
“Madam,” said Sir Haughty, who was sitting to her right, “I’ve worked for you for eight years and I’ve never regretted a single day. It is an honor to serve under your directorship.” Backwash jumped up on the circular table, stepping slowly around the outer edge accepting pats and scritches the way the Pope accepts kisses to his ring. It might sound like the cats were an interruption, but those interactions were so commonplace they were done without a second thought.
Avis and Agnes were seated to Miss Chiff’s left. “I wish you had felt more comfortable with us, so that you could have told us if you didn’t want to be included as a field agent,” said Agnes, stroking Backwash’s long tail in passing.
Avis followed immediately, “I’m also honored to serve under you, Ma’am. If you are having difficulty, please know that you are with friends. You can tell us anything and we will support you in any way we can.” To prove it, she lifted Harelip from the ledge and put her on the floor.
Miss Chiff’s annoyance segued into suspicion, then back to annoyance as Harelip immediately leaped back onto the ledge. Miss Chiff allowed Harelip some time to investigate her hair bun, hoping to satisfy her curiosity I would imagine. I figured as long as we avoided outrage we were doing okay, and it seemed Harelip was of the same opinion.